Son Of Adam
by Passing girl
Summary: Goku is in a critical position, both body and mind, then Gohan comes to help liberate his father whom was once the most powerful man.A real depressing Father Son fic, a must read 'With the consistency of grinding, it can wither an iron rod into a needle.'
1. here, this is where I stand

A/N: hey, yes another story from, while I am doing a bunch others. I don't plan on this one being super long, it will be real depressing and profound (so I hope you will think so) it's a story about Goku go through a real tough time and his son, Gohan, trying to free him. A real father son fic. Its all done with Goku's point of view, though I may be changing it about, I am not sure. this isn't exactly the Goku we all know and love from the show, which I am not very excited about  
  
With the consistency of grinding, it can wither an iron rod into a needle.  
  
_________________ Son Of Adam ____________________  
  
Each morning I force myself out of bed I feel I have aged a lifetime. Each day admitting myself to a new year, growing older and somber. Never before have I felt such weakness, but for the past dying months I feel it upon my back. Long have I been dodging the dismay of time and age, it never brushed its unwelcome presence upon my face or body, soul or mind. Yet now it is upon me, I am only at the age of fifty....fifty. Yet I feel one thousand.  
  
I look upon myself in the mirror, no, I have not aged truly, my body is still firm and achieved overcoming permanent scars or dents. Yet, I no longer have life in my eyes, my hair seems to grow limp. Inside-inside I feel jaded and worn, like a damp cloth, leaking its moisture on asphalt, only to be soaked up by time.  
  
I cant live on in such agony, agony that has been upon me for only half a year, yet long enough to crush a man.  
  
My wife has died. She is nothing but a tender memory that keeps no attendance or comfort to me. An evanescence; something once good and gold but has faded. I find it more truthful to brush aside the reminiscence of her, its folly to dwell in the past. Though I find myself not bereaved.  
  
I departed from my room, their was no point in coaxing an empty mind and soul with pity, it will only leave me more empty and worthless. I travel with a limp down the creaking stairs that lead to my small kitchen and living room. The smell of cooking aroma was never their to welcome me, I lived alone, I would have to make the sensation happen with my own hands.  
  
My sons don't live with me anymore, they have gone down their own paths, proudly taking a stand against the world. I too am very proud of them. Though I have not seen them very recently, I get calls, mostly from Gohan, who insists I leave this house and come stay with him. He'll bribe with a being proclaimed an honored guest. A permanent one. He truly is good to me, but I have kept my distance, trying best to not promote any concern or uneasiness. He would be strongly aware of my condition, just as I am.  
  
I began to cook some pancakes, plain ones, I never did prefer fruit in mine, it always seemed to drain the flavor.  
  
I felt my eyes drift from the heating pan out the window, giving a frame picture of mountains and trees, birds dancing from tree to tree, singing songs. I saw all the life. Breathe drew from sky and time, and exhaled from the wondering valleys and mountain sides. Announcing its recreation and animation from the bellowing winds and seas. The wind I once flew in, and the sea's I once swam in. Yet now I envy them. Envy their life while I have nothing but agony with death all around me.  
  
I let out a sigh when I look to the dishes pilled on the counter abroad from the sink. Food tainted water dripped from its porcelain, making a pool of its ill coloration on the dappled counter. I dreaded cleaning it up. I dreaded everything, even life its self.  
  
I just wasn't the same, none of it. My eyes drifted back out the window, a drew in a deep staggering breathe. I once was as lively and filled with enterprise as those untamed mountains. Nothing bent me to its will, I paved my own. I had enough strength and spirit to spear, but now I feel I have none. It is all gone, leaking from my hands like sand, disappearing into the waves.  
  
I felt tears well up in my eyes, I pinched them shut.  
  
'I have no strength left to pave my way.'  
  
I felt my feet give out beneath me, I fell to my knees and looked at my hands in amazement, tears fell down my cheeks as my mouth opened in disbelief. It seemed to hit me so clearly then.  
  
'What have I become? Where is the man I once was?'  
  
I felt the tears begin to fall more rapidly, yet no solemn drone left my mouth, I brought my hands to my face and buried it into them. Rolling my fingers through my hair I began to sob, I heard myself weep softly, moaning the question.  
  
'What have I -? What have I-?"  
  
I let my body roll to completely upon the kitchen floor, and their cried, tears damped my paling face and dripped upon the tiles. I lay their long, I try to lift myself but it is no use.  
  
Finally, I tried to pull myself together, pulling my strained body up on my dry elbows. I looked wryly at my hands, my arms began to tremble as I stood, the strength in them at a brink. Why my strength has left me? I am not sure. But the mind is powerful, so powerful its scary, its favor toward despair is brimming over, sending my body to waste away.  
  
Finally upon my feet a sniffled and rubbed my face with my arm, I looked down upon my pancakes; they were burning. Lifting the skillet from the stove I carried it to the trash and dumped my breakfast. I wasn't that hungry anyways.  
  
I then aimlessly trailed into the living room, lowering my body into the couch that now smelt of mildew and felt of paper. I felt a lump in my throat. I used to love this couch, it was so comfortable and welcoming, but not any more. Simply a loaf of cloth that spoils my mind with depressed thoughts.  
  
I felt my hands clinch angrily at my knees, pinching my fleece boxer pants into wrinkles. I felt sweat began to uplift from my skin, I felt my body grow more hard.  
  
Often this happened, my sorrow grow to anger. I am not sure if I have grown gall over it though, I have had no one around me to prove it. Yes, I know I grow bitter toward myself, but so do all whom come to a plateau of glee, though I never expect to climb again.  
  
I hear the phone ring, I look to it, but I dare not approach it. Its probably one of my sons or close friends, once close anyhow. They call often, I have taught myself not answer their call, my condition has grown worse, they will notice. I cant let them worry.  
  
I press on my eyes again, they are growing more stiff and irritating, crying will do that I suppose.  
  
I need to get up, do some work, clean the house take a walk. That's all I ever do, ever since last month. With a heavy moan I trend once more to my feet, making my way to the shower stall on the second level.  
  
Putting the last piece of silverware into the drawer I rinse off my hands. The kitchen is now clean, along with the living room. While rinsing my hands through the cool water I keep tucking my head to the side looking out into the tiny living room at the red couch. Maybe I should throw it out today, though, I don't have anything to replace it. I don't have enough money to go buy I new one, a shrug it off, the couch is fine where it lays.  
  
Drying my hands little on a washrag I strolled to the front door, opening it up I took a step outside. Mid summer had come and gone, it was obvious, the air has grown cool and a sprinkle of leaved floated to the heather ground. Fall was still a ways, but its approaching presence was obvious, the air still was rather hot, and the scenery still green and dappled with red berries.  
  
Summer was sure to end, and fall was certain to come, it was inevitable. The thought began to make me feel weak again. Death is inevitable as well. As certain as the raising sun, it will come and pass, taking away a breathe, replacing it with nothing but memory. I cant avoid death, just like my wife couldn't, it took her with grace, but took her without mercy, she succumbed it. And now I feel her eroding away, I don't remember what she truly looked like, I have pictures yes, but they gave her no justice. I have forgotten her smell, what she sounded like -- I cant even remember loving her.  
  
I pressed my fingers upon my chin, then smeared, my eyes couldn't bare looking at the mountains, even their beauty has betrayed me. I sauntered back to my door, and reentered my house.  
  
A/N: I apologize for the shortness, but I find it necessary. I am not sure when I will update, I am going at three other stories and having troubles. haha, lately I have been home a lot and have had a real urge to write! Please if you would, review. 


	2. From Autumn To Ashes

A/N: thanks for the reviews guys, that's really nice of you all, please read this chapter and enjoy.  
  
Chapter 2: From Autumn To Ashes  
  
My eyes wandered to the clicking clock that laid above the chiffero, the discreet sound of ticking grew in my mind, it began to feel agonizing upon my brow and temples. The sound only leaving my head to pound in eeriness; the ticking of salivation tantalizing my being. I felt my guy begin to quarrel with my body, twitching and curling, I felt my body heave into a cold sweat. My breathe sharp, my mind death, everything fast, all but me.  
  
I brushed my face with a heavy hand, not knowing why I seemed so ill, aliment, or major, I didn't know, I couldn't care. All I knew was it happened often these days. My body slowing to a crawl, my crumbling hide filled with agony. My eyes shoot open from their closed state, a window of ignorance closing, I shivered to my feet, my trembling body arduously holding me. Slowly I staggered to the stare well, clinching to the banister I stumbled up the stairs. My degenerated self, able to withhold uneasiness. I felt my spell lift from me, the sweat from my pours trickling to the floor and halt their shed.  
  
I grasped my hand around my throat as I drew in a horse breathe, I can finally stand complete. Walking into my aged room, I lead myself to the closet, opening it up I shuffle through the hanging clothes to my orange gi, I haven't seen in years. Grasping it, I pulled it out and held it close. Lifting it to my chin I took in its scent, tears fell from eyes, sullying the material.  
  
It was a symbol of my youth and of my strength, a symbol of my real self that died with tribulation. Part of me lost with time and ache, a part I wish I haven't lost, but now I find myself forgetting. Shedding another guilty tear upon it, I lay it upon my bed, never removing my feeble and dull eyes from its dulling yet triumphed color. Lifting my hands to the neck of my shirt I begin to unbutton, then pull of my blue shirt, along with my jeans, I land a sorrowful, frightened hands upon the heavy orange material of my gi pants, I drag them up.  
  
Changing into a custom that once was me, I fell as though I stool it from a man, a man that was not afraid of death. A man so colossal and true, that I felt shameful earing such clothing. I felt I wore the vesture of God, and me, a sinning creature not fit to wear the gown of a peasant. I wanted to remove the clothing from my body, I felt to unworthy, but another part of me encouraged me. Encouraged me to wear the uniform of a mighty warrior whom once made fear tremble.  
  
I felt my eyes grow damp, I felt them quiver as well as my lips. -That man is dead- He is the ashes of the bright leaves that melted into autumn and then chimed upon the ground, burning into ashes.  
  
Slowly, I tied to thin robe that firmed the boot to my foot, lacing it together I kicked my heel upon the ground and stood, the complete outfit was heavy upon my now fragile body.  
  
Letting out a gruff laugh, I wiped my arm across my chin,  
  
"How did it come to this?"  
  
Running my hand across the breast of my shirt, a piece of my thinning bangs slipped into my eyes, lightly I pressed it aside and headed slowly out my door.  
  
Standing upon the brim of my yard, upon the ball of a hill I stood. My fists clinched at my sides, and my eyes looking up and around. The aroma of pine and meadow filled me, the fell of the breeze upon my face, and the hope of my restoration at hand.  
  
Years- years has it been since I have stand with this outfit it the presence of life. I felt the nipping of my old self in the back of my mind, the promise of heather while I stand in desert. I felt a smile on my face, the promise of saltation, a heavy gust of rushing wind pressed my face and heaved my hair behind me, as if answering my call, telling me its alright, its true. A small short laugh escaped my mouth as I felt the wind, I held out my arms and welcomed the call, I praised it with gratification and honor. As the wind began to vanish it didn't leave me unsatisfied, instead it left me adequate, and knowing an answer.  
  
Slowly I made my way to back to the cottage, closing the door behind me the only thing I brought in was an answer, 'the' answer. That's all I wanted, I wanted the answer to all my suffering to finally be answered; and it was.  
  
A/N: sorry it was short. The next chapter shouldn't be, and the story will start getting into gear, but please REMEMBER this chapter! Cause it will be needed toward the end and throughout this story. Thank you for reading, please review. 


	3. my son

A/N: here is a new chapter. As you can see. Forgive me if there are mess ups, I never really read over my stories.  
  
Chapter 3: .....my son.....  
  
Strolling through the kitchen, my boxer pants padded under my feet, I scratched at my tight grey shirt that hugged my thinning body. I didn't wake up that early this morning, afternoon time, though that's what I time I usually wake up these days. I have no appointments or deadlines, I am simply there and here. Doing things that have no meaning, nor will ever have a cause. I cant care about that, I cant hate the way I live.  
  
Walking past the dinning table something caught my eye, shifting my body to a tilt my eyes wandered beneath the table I found a strange thing. Yielding to my knee, I outreached my hand and laid my finger tips upon the object, letting my touch inhale the texture to see if I could decipher what it was, slowly I pressed down, and hld it to my view. I winced slightly at it, my vision seemed flurry, slowly I took it farther from my view and looked it over.  
  
A piece of cloth.  
  
A piece of cloth with a delicate flow of the paisley pattern, dazzled with mahogany and raspberry. I knew what it was, tears formed in my eyes as a smile curved on my face, I turned it about in my hand. It was a shirt my wife had given to Gohan when he was just a boy, she wanted him to attend a school meeting at an Academy.  
  
Gohan and dropped a marble under the table and snagged his shirt sleeve on the table leg. I smiled at the though, ChiChi was so mad. I felt the hot tears begin to roll down my cheek as mile smile fell apart, slowly I lifted the cloth to my lips and kissed it gently. Letting my bangs fall into my eyes and hang in poise.  
  
Suddenly I heard the front door, there was a knock upon it. Staggering to my feet I slipped the paisley into my pocket and wobbled to the door. I didn't know who it would be, I was frightened who it would be. slowly, and hesitantly, I laid m hand upon the door knob, I heard the knock again. Should I answer it? I pulled my hand away. No, no I shouldn't.  
  
But wait....  
  
Slowly I circled the knob with the twist of my wrist, there was no stopping then. I then slowly began to pull it open, my eyes on the floor, once the door completely ajar, I looked upon my son, Gohan. His face had grown as mature as ever, his glasses tucked away in the pocket of his brown suede jacket, in his hands he held a glass container with a foil top. A smile upon his handsome face, yet behind his gleaming eyes, I saw pity.  
  
"Hey dad," I heard his words seem to be forced out, "I haven't- seen you in awhile. Can I come in?"  
  
To see Gohan made me want to cry again, to seem my son once more after a long departure, he had always been so good to me, as I was to him.  
  
"Of course you can," I smiled wearily.  
  
He smiled and stepped in, then looked about, seeing nothing had really changed from the old house he grew up in, the smell, it was smelling older, and looking more etiolate. No, actually, it didn't seem the same at all.  
  
Closing the door behind him and paused, then slowly turned to face him once more, he was still looking around, noticing my pause he turned to me. A smile forced upon his face, his small dimples popping out,  
  
"I, I brought you some corn pudding," he smiled holding it toward me.  
  
I looked upon the offer, taking it, it seemed heavy, I didn't know why. Gleaming him a grin I took it and conveyed it to the kitchen.  
  
"That is very nice....of you."  
  
Gohan followed me closely, his hands in his pockets and his eyes still searching, searching the walls to see if any object had been unstitched from the aging walls. I hadn't moved anything, not a nail misplaced.  
  
Setting the dish upon the once polished wood counter top left of the sink, I gave it a steady stare and then looked to Gohan, his hands still shoved in his pockets. This obviously wasn't easy for him either. I knew, the moment I let his eyes fall upon me, that he would sense the issues, see that my dotage was unnatural, too soon in all accounts for a full blooded Saiyan. I tired to smudge the thoughts from his mind, giving him another gin.  
  
"So, how is the family?"  
  
Gohan shrugged then nervously rubbed a hand across his chin, "they, they are fine. Videl is doing quiet wonderfully, she has dropped her ob and is know owing her time to Pan.."  
  
I cut him short, rising my voice to cut past his, "Pan? How, how dose she do these days?"  
  
Gohan seemed to pause, and gave me a blink, baffled at my strange way of showing curiosity, running his hand along his chin once again he stuttered, but then found his words, "she's-she's fine. Yes. She is ten now, going on eleven," Gohan then seemed to smirk, "she has taken up fighting, always raving on how someday she'll be the strongest 'chick' in the universe." I managed to laugh lightly, yet coseismal, "Chick? I see she is taking up...the 'new talk'. Huh."  
  
Gohan smiled as well, "yeah. Yeah, she is picking up a few others as well," Gohan's smile disappeared, his eyes peered straight up to mine, it startled me, the seemed to cut right through me, "...she would like to see you again dad."  
  
I paused.  
  
Gohan's eyes went straight to the floor again at my reaction, his hand combing the back of neck as he spat out, "we all would..." he's voice too seemed to me trembling, filled with pain.  
  
I felt my heart begin to ache, my throat begin to wobble, my face burn. Drawing in a shaky breathe I tried to hid my pain, turning to around to face the counter again.  
  
"....Would....would you like some- coffee?"  
  
He didn't answer right away, yet, I was relieved to hear he did, "sure."  
  
Sitting down p the rotting sofa's Gohan sipped his coffee, I sat on the opposite end, slouched deeply into it, my legs pulled apart. I could her everyone of Gohan's heavy sips and swallows, I felt his leg shaking side to side in uneasiness. Slowly I tilted my head toward the window, it was still midday, I had only awoke an hour or two ago. I swallowed; Gohan began to speak.  
  
"So how has it been around here lately?" his voice seemed more lively.  
  
"Fine," I did not look to him, "the weather has been charitable."  
  
Gohan nodded lightly as he too began to look out the window my eyes were deeming.  
  
"Yet....its always hard to see summer drift away; to see fall come. Ends are never easy to witness."  
  
Gohan was looking at me now.  
  
"...father...."  
  
I looked to Gohan, I gave him the strongest smile I could, which was adversity crumbling inside of me, though, I wanted to give him my brightest smile, I knew it wouldn't make up for all are forgotten years, but I wanted to show him I was willing to atone.  
  
Lifting out a heavy hand I laid it upon his knee.  
  
"I am glade you came Gohan. Its nice to a familiar face."  
  
When I said that, I saw Gohan begin to grow red, his eyes began to tear up then fall, his hand fell upon my mine.  
  
"....its...good to see you...." he managed to choke out.  
  
Giving him another smile, I felt my eyes squint, I looked once more out the window, I began to talk.  
  
"So tell me, how is work? I hear that being a professor has its hard times."  
  
Gohan nodded, "yes, it dose. But I believe I am faring very well. My income is rising as well as my priority. People are beginning to recommend me."  
  
"Well good for you."  
  
Gohan's voice grew more pleasant, "I- plan on taking some time off as well. Spend time with my family, get some things done. I haven been faithful enough with my work, they agreed with to allow the pardon."  
  
"Wonderful!" I exclaimed. Boy, I was proud of my son, and finally, his presence was beginning to uplift my spirits, which made me smile more, "you truly have done me proud."  
  
Gohan looked to me, bright and rhapsodic, "really? ...I thought that, because I left fighting you would be, somehow disappointed. Like I had abounded all are fun times, sparring and battles, that you think I brushed aside everything you taught me," he looked at me, more profoundly, "but I haven't father. I truly haven't. Everything you taught me molded me to the person I am, lead me to such a being. And to that, I am ever thankful."  
  
Hearing his words shattered me, the guilt that bore upon my shoulders grew thicker. I never thought Gohan betrayed me in any way, but- but it was I who betrayed him. I taught him my very being, and now look at me, a creature whom is nothing left but hypocrite. Yet now, he says he is thankful? I do not comprehend his judgment. Long has he stood in my shadow, now he has wandered, yet now I too wander, wander from my own self.  
  
Gohan touched my shoulder, I looked to him. A gentle smile upon his graceful face.  
  
"You mean a lot to me dad. A lot."  
  
I felt my chest quiver, I felt my body grow stiff. Slowly I turned my face out the window, the midday sun casting sheen upon my face with gold and red.  
  
A heavy body then lay over mine, its arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders and back, a head tucked into the warmth of my neck, there it was sprinkled with tears, and alined with my name.  
  
"Dad-oh dad."  
  
A tear fell down my cheek as my son embraced me, Son Gohan, the best friend I ever had, the first child I ever bared. Slowly I lifted my arms up and stocked his back and hair, he cried into me. I dare not show my pain.  
  
"I love you father....you must always know that."  
  
A/N: so what did you think? No its not over yet, not yet. Please review if you would be ever so kind. 


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